


Modus Operandi

by lost_spook



Category: Primeval, Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Pearce likes the niceties.  James Lester really doesn’t care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modus Operandi

**Author's Note:**

> Non-spoilery tag for episode 1.3 of Primeval. I literally wrote this at that point in my first watch of Primeval, so I do realise that as the series goes on Lester and Harry Pearce would find themselves (probably somewhat reluctantly) very much on the same side.

***

“Lester, isn’t it?”

James Lester turned to see an older man in a long coat walking down the Embankment towards him, and it took considerable restraint not to roll his eyes. For those who worked in any branch of the British Security Service, Harry Pearce, head of MI5’s Section D, needed no introduction. Generally, an unexpected visit was not a good thing, and certainly not if you were Lester. Their paths had crossed only rarely, but they’d already established a mutual distaste for each other’s company. It promised to be lasting. 

“I don’t need to dignify that with an answer, do I?”

The man gave a slight smile and a tilt of his head in acknowledgement. “A word in your ear, James.”

“Really. And you think this is the place for discussing official secrets?”

Harry glanced out over the Thames, and ignored that. “Let’s just say there are tidier ways of dealing with an inconvenient problem. I strongly suggest you find one in future. The rest of us have more than enough to do without cleaning up after you.”

“We dealt with the situation as efficiently and discreetly as possible, sir. Regrettable, of course –”

“You know,” said Harry, “I have these quaint old-fashioned notions, one of which is a dislike of innocent British citizens being locked up for crimes they didn’t commit. Humour me.”

“And you and I both know that these things happen.” It was on the tip of his tongue to add that one could hardly be sentimental about the necessities in this job, but a timely sense of self-preservation intervened.

Harry paused. “True. But this? Do you think there wouldn’t have been lawyers queuing up to take the case? Photogenic girl, bereaved, in shock – and no doubt an angry family shouting for justice? The press would have had a field day. And once the body turned up – if you could call it that, of course…” Harry shrugged. “That’s not dealing with a problem, it’s lazy thinking – sheer stupidity. There could be questions raised about your… suitability -”

“I’d cheer at the idea, but they’d never find anyone else willing to take this on,” said Lester, on surer ground. “Would you?”

“I’ll serve wherever I’m required,” said Harry, unimpressed. “So will everyone else if they’re any bloody use.”

“The girl –”

“You don’t need to worry about her,” said Harry, giving a fleeting, wolfish grin. “Although I am touched by your concern, Lester. I’m sure she would be, too.”

“We may need to question her again.”

Harry stared across the river. “Yes. There are forms you can fill out, I believe.”

“How –?” Lester began and then stopped himself. ‘How did you know?’ was the most pointless thing you could ask a high-ranking spook. He gave a short smile. “Do I need my office swept for bugs?”

“I hope not,” said Harry, raising his eyebrows. “In the meantime, good luck keeping the rest of us from the monsters.”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously –”

“I take national security very seriously. I’m just not sure you do.”

“If a sea monster doesn’t eat you on your way home, there’s your answer. If it does, well –”

“These things happen?”

Lester gave a shrug. “You’ll have the satisfaction of being right. Won’t that be nice?”

“Let’s hope not, then, for all our sakes.”

Lester grimaced and watched the other man walk away. Damn, he thought. Stopping – and covering up – hordes of marauding dinosaurs was bad enough. The last thing he wanted on top of that was inter-departmental interference. He already had enough trouble with the rest of his so-called team (unconventional at best, lunatics at worst). He didn’t need Harry bloody Pearce breathing down his neck as well.

That was the worst of the service: it was crowded with people who were paid to poke their noses into other people’s business. You couldn’t keep a secret for more than five minutes these days.


End file.
